‘What am I to do?’ he asked.
In order to make sure that he was not mistaken in what had happened, he climbed back up the wooden ladder.
When he could reach the iron door, he put up his arm to press against it.
He had been right in thinking that it had been bolted and he knew that it would be impossible however hard he tried to force it open.
It was then he shouted out,
“Help! Help me! Help!”
There was no response.
At this time of the evening his Private Chaplain would have finished his Evening Prayers and retired to his apartments, which were some distance away inside The Château.
Often there were villagers and nuns who came to pray, but not this late because of the steep climb to the Chapel through the woods.
It was an even longer distance up the drive on the other side of The Ch
